A Desperate Man
by BuryTheHatchet
Summary: I figure this could have happened at the end of A Desperate Man. It is sort of an episode tag. Basically, it is Tony and Ziva tap-dancing around their feelings.


**Hello. Long time, no…write…? I never know with that expression. Because it is not like I can see you, so it is not long time, no see. But we are not really speaking, either. I guess it should be write.**

 **Anyway – the last thing I posted was chapter whatever (68?) of It Takes Two, 48 days ago. Sorry about that. I am getting bad at keeping on top of my writing again.**

 **I kind of…I do not know about this one…it has been finished for ages, I just cannot decide whether it is worth posting.**

 **It is sort of what I might think after they leave the elevator at the end with the detective whose wife died in A Desperate Man – you know the scene I mean. I figure they probably go to a bar and sit and talk.**

 **So… have fun. Or not. It is up to you.**

A Desperate Man

"I think I am going to swear off men."

"Reeaaally?" Tony turned to her on his barstool, twisted mind growing slightly more twisted as he started wondering whether swearing off men meant batting for the other team.

Ziva rolled her eyes and thumped him on the shoulder. "You said it yourself. I am bad at romance. My love-life…"

"It leaves something to be desired," he chuckled good-naturedly, nudging her shoulder with his.

"Exactly. You know, I do not remember the last good relationship I had," she sighed, pulling the hairband from her hair and combing her fingers through the loose strands.

Tony looked at her and smiled before wrapping an arm around her shoulder. "Ziva, what you need is a woman."

She cringed and shrugged his arm away, shaking her head. "DiNozzo… Can you not keep your messed-up fantasies to yourself for five minutes?"

"No, what I mean is that you need someone who's not going to lie, cheat and all-together screw you over. Someone who's good for you," he shrugged. "I mean, I've only been with women who've lied about the little things, like how they've had better," she raised her eyebrows, threatening another blow to his shoulder. "The way I see it, only women can ever manage to be benevolent in that way,"

"Benevolent, good word."

"Thanks. I looked in a dictionary once."

Ziva chuckled. "You? A dictionary?"

"Yeah, I was looking up bad words," he shrugged and grinned, relaxing into their easy banter that had been slowly returning over the past couple of years.

"Are you certain that men cannot be faithful? Truthful? I mean, look at Gibbs."

"Faithful, maybe. Truthful? No," he shook his head. "We can never tell when he is lying to us, can we?"

"McGee?"

"He's too weak. You need someone who can stand up to you. Challenge you. No man strong enough to challenge you is a good man, Ziva."

"Maybe I like a submissive man?"

"So you like McGee?"

She closed her eyes and shook her head. "No, that is wrong. I love McGee as a brother."

"How about Palmer? He could be pretty submissive."

"He is also taken," she huffed, laughter twinkling in her eyes. "So you have no suggestions of men that would be good for me? Well, any suggestions for women?"

"Well, we could check my little black book…"

She snorted. "Tony, that little black book has laid untouched for years. Half the women in there were made up, and the ones that were not are probably either married or out of the country by now."

"Why'd they be out of the country?" His brow was furrowed as he tried to think it through.

"Fleeing you."

He narrowed his eyes at her as she stifled laughter. "You think you're oh-so-funny, don't you?"

She pouted. "Only a little."

They lapsed into silence, each staring into the depths of their drinks.

"Tony, do you…no, it does not matter," she shook her head.

"No, go on, what is it?"

"Well…I mean, as you clearly have no good suggestions for women, I was wondering if there were any men you could recommend. They do not have to be perfect. I definitely do not want anybody submissive. I just want someone who will have my back. Can you think of anyone like that?"

"Well, there is this one guy, but, I mean, he's…" he looked down at his hand and shook his head as he thought about himself, changing his mind. "He's not good enough for you. He'd probably end up breaking your heart more than anyone else before."

She sighed and tilted her head. "I do not think there is much heart left to break."

"You don't give yourself enough credit. Besides, every time the heart is broken, it grows back slightly bigger and slightly stronger." She raised her eyebrows at him and he shrugged. "Something my mum used to say when Senior disappointed us. Hey, let's get out of here – moping's not gonna get you anywhere. Besides, I'm not sure that alcohol's gonna help with this."

"You cannot know that without trying it first, and I am not half way through my mojito."

"I know from experience. Come on."

* * *

"Tony, what are we doing here?"

"Well, when was the last time you came to the range?"

"I…do not know. A month or two ago," she shrugged.

"And when was the last time you when to the gym?"

She thought for a moment before glaring at him. "That better not be a comment on my weight, DiNozzo."

"No! No, no, no, no, no," his hands were in the air and he had backed away from her slightly. "I just meant, other than that right-hook you threw at He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named earlier, when was the last time you actually let out any of that pent up anger you keep rushing around that little body of yours?"

"I swear, DiNozzo, that I will take all of that anger out on you if you do not keep your mouth in check," Ziva's growl was loud in the silent range and her finger was twitching around the weapon at her hip.

"Still not certain this was a safer option than the gym," he scratched his head. "But I figured you'd enjoy this more."

"You know me too well."

"Is that a bad thing?"

She paused, narrowing her eyes and biting her lip. "Probably. Knowing anybody too well can be dangerous," she walked up to the stall, pulling her weapon out.

"Or it can save you. Or them."

She gave a short chuckle, shaking her head. "Always the hero." Three rounds hit the human-shaped target, a small grouping in the shoulder.

"That the best you can do?" She huffed and grit her teeth at him. "You're losing your ninjaness. The old Ziva would have gone straight for the head."

"The old Ziva is gone. Why, do you miss her?" Her mocking tone brought a smile to his face and he took a moment to congratulate himself on getting the rise out of her he had desired.

"Well, she was feistier. And I bet she wouldn't have hesitated to make that target suffer more than that," he was slowly moving towards her so that he ended up inches from her back, his mouth by her ear. The tension was radiating off of her in waves. "Imagine it's Him over there." As the single round hit the target with a pretty good estimation of where the crotch would be he winced, mouthing the empathetic pain he felt in a silent 'ouch'. "Well, I was thinking something slightly less cruel. Start with the heart or something," he shuddered. "I guess I don't blame you though."

It was then that her shoulders started shaking and he figured it was maybe then that the whole thing came crashing down on her. He carefully prised her gun from her hand and slipped the safety on before placing it down and putting his hands on her shoulders. When he rested his forehead on the back of her head she started to cry harder, her arms hanging by her sides and the sound of her tears filling the empty basement. He dropped one of his hands so that it wrapped gentle around her wrist, drawing small circles on the inside of her arm and down onto her palm whilst his other hand squeezed her shoulder.

"I'm sorry," Tony whispered, holding back his own tears. He had seen too much pain on her face over the past few weeks, all caused by CI Ray, and it was tearing him up, piece by piece. "If it had been me I could never have hurt you." His other hand moved down to her hip as her crying grew shallower, though there were still tears rolling down her cheeks as she turned in his arms and pressed her forehead against his.

Their kiss tasted of salt, tears mingling as they clutched at one another's clothes, arms, hair. Neither knew who started it and for a brief few moments nothing mattered but the solace they each found in the other. It was only when her back met the stall divider that she broke away and looked down, shaking her head as he cursed under his breath. "Sorry. I should not have… I just…"

"'S'okay. I know. I understand."

"God, what is wrong with me?!" She covered her face with her hand, turning away from him.

"Nothing. There's nothing wrong with you."

"Really? Then why have I never managed to date anybody that has not turned out to be a complete…" she was holding her hands up as if to try and grasp her desired word from the air.

"Scumbag?"

"I was going with something stronger, but scumbag will do."

"Well, hey, if you think you've got problems, just look at me. I'm ten years older and no closer to having any luck in that department," he sighed and shook his head, walking over to the wall and sliding down to sit on the floor.

"You had Wendy," she pointed out as she joined him, each leaning against the wall.

"And just look how that turned out."

"Fair point."

"Perhaps it's Gibbs fault. I mean, just look at the rest of the team – McGee's hardly doing any better than us. Abby's not got a great track record. And Ducky – well, Ducky's anybody's guess. The only one of us who's actually doing particularly well with the whole relationship thing is Palmer."

"Gibbs did okay the first time around."

"True," Tony nodded. "Maybe it's them that have it wrong. Maybe we're the one's doing it right."

"Them?"

"Those that go for the whole marriage thing." She raised her eyebrows at him sceptically. "No, think about it – if we just stuck to things like one-night stands and week-long flings, and that was the social norm, we would have none of these problems."

"Yes, and the whole species would die out in one generation," she muttered. "I guess that would solve the problem for future generations."

"No, not necessarily. I mean, perhaps humans aren't supposed to mate for life. Kinda like frogs."

"Frogs?"

"Yeah, y'know, they do it, have a couple of kids, then move on."

She scoffed. "That is all very well for the men, you have no obligation and nothing to stick around for. But what about the women. We do not want to have to keep producing children every couple of years. I mean, I cannot imagine it is easy – and then to have to look after all of these children from different fathers that do not stick around to help…"

It was so much like conversations that they used to have, before undercover cases and dry deserts and CIA rogues that he almost forgot why they were sat at the shooting range with tear marks on their faces. Almost. "Hmmm. I guess not then. Well, you know what that means, don't you?"

"What?" She looked up at him curiously, noting the mischievous glint that had appeared in his eyes.

He sighed and looked down, composing his whole face into a stoic mask. "You and I are gonna have to get married and have a couple of kids."

He said it so seriously and so solemnly that for a moment she was not certain that he was joking, but then his faced cracked into an award-winning grin and she felt her heart lighten for the first time in weeks as she started laughing along side him. However, behind the laughter that was bubbling from her lips, there was a sinking feeling of disappointment that settled with the twisting knots in her stomach that had appeared when he had posed his proposition – a feeling she had not felt in a long time, though glimpses had appeared here and there, conversations that got a little bit too close to the edge; a feeling that resembled something like hope and something like desire and something like neither.

Their laughter died down quickly, neither having the strength to simultaneously continue hiding their yearning for one another - and for his proposition to not just have been a joke - and to continue seeing the funny side of a non-existent future. The joke would probably have gone down a lot better if they had had more alcohol in their systems. But then, one very good reason for them having not gone for drinks together in a rather long time was that alcohol lowered inhibitions, and without inhibitions and common sense, possibilities tended to open up that were best left untouched.

Ziva let her head drop to his shoulder as she sighed. They had fallen asleep like that once, a long time ago. "You never answered my question. We were interrupted."

"Oh. Which question?"

"I asked whether you were happy."

"I asked first."

There was a pause as they each sat and thought about their answers. "I am content with being content."

"Hmm. Ditto."

"Wha- you cannot just ditto that!"

"Sure I can. I just did," he shrugged. "You sure you don't want kids and marriage?"

"I never said I did not want that. I just said that they do not really fit into my plan right now."

"Huh."

"What?" She looked up at him, not lifting her head from his should.

"Well, I think I might have to ditto you on that as well." She smiled up at him: a sad, sleepy smile. "Come on, I'll drive you home."

"Do you want to stay tonight?"

There was a pause as he shifted slightly uncomfortably and she kept her eyes fixed on the carpet. "I, uh, don't think…probably not a good idea…"

"I meant on the couch."

"Oh, yeah, I knew that, but, uh…I've got the goldfish to feed."

"Ah. Of course," they stood in silence, neither looking at one another.

"Well, we better get going. I told the owner we'd have the place locked up by half one," he gave an awkward smile, nothing like his usual grin, before turning, silently cursing and waiting for his partner to join him at his side, where she always was.

And he was content with that – having his partner by his side. Maybe he was not happy, but he was content, and he was content with being content. Besides, he was lucky to be able to count her as his, even if only as his partner, because he knew that then he would always be able to catch her as she fell.

 **I swear, my writing goes from bad to worse. I apologise for that.**

 **For my reference: 58** **th** **NCIS fic.**


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